


First Night in Berkeley Square

by AbsolutelyNoHighFructoseCornSyrup



Category: Beatrice Hyde-Clare Mysteries - Lynn Messina
Genre: F/M, Romance, Sex, Wedding Night
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-14
Updated: 2020-11-14
Packaged: 2021-03-10 01:09:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,487
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27565789
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AbsolutelyNoHighFructoseCornSyrup/pseuds/AbsolutelyNoHighFructoseCornSyrup
Summary: Fills in some of the details of the wedding night alluded to in "A Sinister Establishment".
Relationships: Beatrice Hyde-Clare/Damien Matlock | Duke of Kesgrave
Kudos: 4





	First Night in Berkeley Square

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [A Sinister Establishment](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/713569) by Lynn Messina. 



> The sections in italics at the beginning and end are transcribed quotes from the audiobook of "A Sinister Establishment" by Lynn Messina narrated by Jill Smith.

_Kesgrave paused beside the open door to his bedchamber. “And now, my love,” he said on a sigh of deep satisfaction as he pressed his lips softly against her forehead, then her cheek. “And now, I promise you will have no cause to take issue with my propensity to be slightly too thorough.”_

The kiss he pressed to her lips swept away any of the fluttering nervousness that had built up in her during the tour of the house. Being in his arms felt delightfully familiar. So very right.

She threw her arms around the back of his neck, trying to close the space between them to nothing. Beatrice slid one hand up to thread her fingers through his blond curls, enjoying the sensation of his thick tresses.

Momentarily she felt weightless as the Duke swept her up and over the threshold, taking several steps into his rooms. Setting her back down on her feet he then fumbled blindly behind him for the door, knowing it must be closed, but unwilling to break their kiss.

With the sound of the door slamming shut she leaned into him, forcing him to shift his feet to remain upright. She was dizzy with the thought that there was nothing to stop them. She was alone with the Duke of Kesgrave. Alone with her husband.

The Duke did break the kiss then. Trailing his lips and tongue tantalizingly down her neck to where throat met shoulder. The sensation caused Beatrice to arch her back while, unbidden, a moan of pleasure passed her lips. With trembling fingers she pulled at his cravat, teasing apart the careful knot. When his own neck was revealed she kissed him there, tracing a path from collarbone to the base of his jaw just below his ear. The smell of him filled her nostrils, making her frantic to feel his bare skin beneath her fingers just as she had in the carriage when she had first kissed him, before she knew it was possible he could love her back.

She pressed her hands to his chest, relishing the heat and feel of his boxers muscles under the fabric of his shirt. Then she slid her hands up and over his developed shoulders in an attempt to pull off his jacket. Instantly aware of her intention he eagerly joined in the effort, shrugging off the offending garment quickly so his arms could quickly resume his embrace of her.

His lips found her mouth again and the kisses pushed against her, guiding her backwards towards the marital bed. Her hands dropped to his waistcoat, fumbling open the buttons there, frustrated at any barrier between her hands and his skin. She pulled at his shirt, until her hands could slide under. He muttered incoherently into her lips, her hair, her neck as she explored the feel of his strong back. She could feel his shoulder blades standing taught with the effort of pulling her close against him.

With deft hands, he pulled loose the ties of her dress. With a single tug he pulled the whole gown down the length of her body, his hands lingering on the rise of her hips. She stepped out of the dress, leaving the fabric as a puddle on the floor. Taking his hands into hers pulled him the final few steps until she felt the bed behind her.

His eyes raked over her, from the rise of her breasts over her corset, to her lips, and finally meeting her eyes. She thrilled to see the hungry look there. The longing in his expression made her feel more beautiful and more powerful than a fresh faced incomparable at her first ball.

He closed the distance between them, wrapping her in his arms and pushing her hips against the high mattress behind her. She felt heat flare up the core of her and escape out of her mouth as a soft cry, “Damien” against his jaw.

With two sharp tugs from his capable arms her corset loosened and fell to the floor. She kicked it away from underfoot.

His arms held her against him in a tight embrace she relished the feeling of her flesh pressed into him, free from the barrier of her corset. Gently his tongue urged her to open her lips and the kiss deepened.

Through the fog of pleasure a thought occurred to Beatrice. The inequality in their undress offended her, and she reached for him to rectify the problem. Her hands roamed for the place where his trousers closed. Beatrice sent a momentary thought of gratitude to her alter ego of Mr. Wright, who had increased her understanding of a gentleman’s dress in the past weeks. With her fingers on the waist of the pants the Duke took in a shuddering inhalation and stepped away. Holding her at arms length by her shoulders he said, “Oh Bea, this will never do.” The Duke looked at her with a look of genuine disappointment on his face.

Beatrice's heart sank, wondering what she had done wrong and cursing her inexperience. She opened her mouth to speak, to apologize and beg forgiveness, but was interrupted.

“You have a shocking way of making me lose control,” His voice was husky with longing and his breathing heavy. “With my love for your person and my desire for your body, you are simply too appealing.”

Relief flowed through her at his words, making her limbs feel loose and rubbery. Leaning against the bed for support, she tried to present a facade of calm. “That is indeed shocking my Lord, as you yourself have remarked, I am only a middling young woman.”

Kesgrave began taking off his shoes and stockings. “Don’t try to defend yourself, Brat.” He waved his left shoe at her accusingly, before tossing it behind him. “I promised you thorough, and thorough you shall get.”

She felt a flutter in the base of her stomach in anticipation and she clutched her hands into fists to keep them from reaching out to him. With one fluid motion he grabbed the hem of his shirt and swept it off over his head.

Bea let out a small squeak of delighted shock at the sight of his bare chest. Reflexively she reached out to grab the bedpost to insure she didn’t faint to the floor or lunge at him like a wild animal.

“Now,” the Duke’s eyes flared in anticipation, taking purposeful steps towards her. “The only way I’ll be able to shower the attentions --” He broke off to pull at the collar of her underdress to reveal her shoulder. Slowly he lowered a kiss to the exposed skin, causing Bea’s mind to go hazy with pleasure as she struggled to follow what he was saying to her. “The attentions you so thoroughly deserve.” His hand slid from her hip slowly up to the base of her ribcage causing a delightful shiver to run up her back. ”The only way I’ll be able to bare it,” he whispered huskily into her ear, his lips brushing against her, “Is if you hold very still.”

Beatrice gripped tighter onto the bed post, no longer certain she could remain standing without its support. The Duke looked at her then only a few inches separated them. Beatrice gazed back into his shockingly blue eyes desperate to rain kisses on his face and chest, but she was too reluctant to pass up what the Duke categorized as ‘through attentions’. Not trusting her voice to be able to respond she nodded her understanding.

With both hands he held her chin, tipping her face up for her lips to meet his. The kiss was sweet and strong with a promise of so much more. When he pulled away, Beatrice leaned forward with her eyes still closed, drunk on the feeling and wanting more.

“Now, Bea,” Kesgrave chuckled lightly. “You said you’d hold still.”

She hummed a yes, her foggy mind seemingly incapable of forming words. She opened her eyes to see Kesgrave kneeling in front of her.

He removed one of her shoes, and then the other before running his hands up her calf and over her thigh to where her stockings buttoned. With deft hands he freed the stockings he guided the fabric down the length of her leg to reveal bare skin.

Uncertain if she would be able to stay still in the face of such sensation, she let out a moan of pleasure.

The sound prompted the Duke to press a breath of a kiss on her inner thigh. The slightly rough texture of his chin tickling the tender flesh made Beatrice gasp a shuddering breath. She felt his lips twitch into a smile against her leg as he repeated the process with the other stocking. Then he stood, pulling the hem of her dress up to her waist revealing her stomach and underthings. His eyes floated up, seeking out hers. His hands pulled at the tie that held up her underclothes, and he let them drop, along with the hem of her shift.

They stood like that, inches apart, not touching for several moments. He held her gaze as they both breathed heavily and in time with one another. Beatrice’s hands twitched with longing to reach out to him. Her eyes dropped to drift appreciatively over his well muscled chest. She licked her bottom lip in anticipation.

As if that was the signal he had been waiting for he took possession of her lips. His hands gripped her waist with hands squeezing to pull the fabric. He lifted his fist full of skirt pulling until his hands could slide beneath the hem. Beatrice arched against him, moaning into his lips as his hands slid up her sides and then to cup her breasts.

“Yes.” Beatrice managed to breath out her consent and encouragement while her mind surrendered to the sensations. “Damian, yes.” She said again as his thumb brushed across her nipple, quickly followed by the flick of his tongue. The feeling of cold where his hot mouth had been a moment ago caused her to call out her approval with a wordless cry. The sound broke the spell of stillness, and she threw her arms around him and pulled him to her.

Then the shift dress was over her head and flung away. The Duke muttered incoherently as he took in her naked form with eyes, hands, and lips. Beatrice explored the feeling of his skin under her fingers. When he found her mouth again he kissed her deeply and lifted her up onto the bed and lay her down.

He crawled after her, shimmying free of the last of his clothing before pressing the hard length of himself against her hip as his hand traced a path up her thigh. She opened herself to him, drawing up her knees as his hand explored her. Beatrice’s legs responded with twitching excitement. She let out small gasps of pleasure as she rocked against his teasing hand, throwing her head back against the soft surface of the bed.

“Bea,” Kesgrave whispered with delight and longing. Her eyes met his and his fingers entered her.

She let out a cry of pleasure and pulled herself up to kiss his lips once more. She broke off the kiss a moment later, distracted by the slow thrusts of his fingers that made the core of her feel impossibly taut. He lay her down again, and leaning over her began slowly dropping kisses on her face and chest. His rhythm increased at her urging as she bucked against him and Bea felt the intense pressure within her transform into a surge of energy that flowed from her center to the end of every limb and back again.

She opened her eyes to see a smiling Kesgrave above her. She returned his smile as her whole body quivered with aftershocks of pleasure.

“Is it appropriate to thank your husband for the pleasures of the marriage bed?” Bea asked in a hazy fog. “Even if it isn’t, I’m not too proud to break with tradition. You have my deepest gratitude.” She reached up her arms winding her fingers in his hair to pull him down for another deep kiss.

The Duke pulled away to look into her eyes, “Don’t thank me yet, my love. I told you I’d be through, and I plan to be.” His lips twitched in repressed amusement before falling to hers again.

Beatrice couldn’t let this promise go unrewarded. She pushed herself up and overtop of him, pinning his strong body beneath hers. She leaned down and kissed his lips, his hair, his neck. Her fingers moved towards the hard length of him that lay against his stomach. But the Duke grabbed her hand away whenever she moved too close and distracted her with small nibbles on her earlobe or a tantalizing brush of the hand across her breasts. And because of his attentions she was content to focus elsewhere, exploring the hard muscles of his chest with her hands. She delighted in the moan that burst from him when she ran her lips over a certain spot on his jawline. He clutched her to him and used his superior strength to roll her beneath him again.

The Duke rubbed his full length through her folds, causing them both to let out moans of anticipation. Then he pressed himself against her.

“Damian,” Beatrice said with a voice deep with longing.

He pushed into her, and in another thrust he was fully inside. Beatrice knew now the passion she had felt, the need to consume more of him, it was her body leading her to this. Looking up into his blue eyes, Beatrice and the Duke fell into a rhythm that began slowly. Eager for more she pushed against him, pulling herself up to kiss his lips and jaw until the pleasure where his body met hers distracted her so there was nothing else. She lay back to surrender to it. She gave full voice to the cries of pleasure that erupted from deep in her throat, and quivered to hear his answering gasps and moans. Their rhythm increased in speed as she desperately clung to his shoulders, the tension in her building to an almost unbearable pressure that ended in a crescendo. The same burst of pleasure that sent energy running throughout her body shook her again and she called out his name. Then with an animalistic cry he pressed into her, every muscle in his body taut.

They hovered for a moment in united joy. Then he collapsed over her with a sigh. Lowering his chest to hers, they lay together until their heavy breathing regained its normal cadence.

_K_ _esgrave brushed an errant lock out of her eyes, smiled down at her, his own normally kept appearance in equal disarray from recent activities, and asked softly, “Are you happy, your grace?”_


End file.
